


He's Going the Distance

by kittykatknits



Series: Jon Snow in Uniform [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Rivalries, Fluff, Jon is a Race Car Driver, Robb is a Race Car Driver, Sansa Doesn't Drive, Secret Relationship, See where I'm going with this?, Sleeping with the enemy, Smut, Sort Of, Sports Car Racing, Theon is a Race Car Driver, but she's still awesome, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykatknits/pseuds/kittykatknits
Summary: Jon Snow is the latest rookie in Westeros' professional racing league and he has only one goal. Jon wants to win and he won't let relationships, his estranged father, or a bitter team rivalry get in the way.Unfortunately for Jon, he didn't count on falling in love with his biggest rival's younger sister. It's a good thing she's the hero they all need her to be.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Jon Snow in Uniform [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/865356
Comments: 107
Kudos: 218





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm not and never have been a professional (or unprofessional) sports car driver. However, I used to work for a tech company that provided services for different sports organizations like the Olympics and the NBA. One of my projects was for NASCAR headquarters which I ended up really enjoying. 
> 
> Anyways, there are many elements in this fic that come from what I learned during that time of my life. I borrowed a few racing numbers and historical events too. The first chapter has one of the most famous and tragic events in recent-ish NASCAR history. 
> 
> Still, the rules, culture, tracks, and history in this story are all made up by me. Basically, I'm saying this isn't a NASCAR story.

_King’s Landing National Speedway_

“Over a hundred thousand people will be staring at you next week. You think you’re ready, lad?”

Jon had been ready since he built his first track from Legos in the living room of his mother’s single wide. He would push his Hot Wheels down the tracks, racing against all the legends. Jon had passed Arthur Dayne to win the final lap at Riverrun Motor Speedway. He had beat Oswell Whent for the pole position and flew past the Old Bull himself, Gerold Hightower, to win the season cup championship. In his child’s play, Jon won every race. “I’ve been ready.”

Davos stared at him with an intensity that made Jon grateful his gray eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. “Your father said the same thing once.” 

Jon’s mood turned sour at the mention of Rhaegar Targaryen. He was a member of the Targaryen team but Jon would always be a Snow. “When does our car arrive?” he asked as a way of changing the conversation. 

“Tomorrow. You’ve got three hours of track time reserved the day after.”

“That’s plenty.” Enough for him to get a feel for the high banks. 

King’s Landing National Speedway was two and a half miles of oval-shaped track and the very first built for the Westeros Stock Car Racing League. It was a course steeped in legends of drivers gone too soon and lap records broken and then broken again. The new season was getting ready to start and Jon was the newest driver added to the roster of those racing for the Iron Cup. 

He squatted down to touch the black concrete of the pit lane. There was hardly a speck of oil to be seen which would serve Davos and the rest of the crew well on race day. 

“The Iron Cup is a marathon, lad. Don’t worry about winning this one.” Davos spoke kindly but it was a variant of the same advice Jon had been hearing for weeks. He squinted to block the harsh southern sun from his eyes before giving up and using a hand to block the bright glare. “You don’t need to prove yourself. Not to him or anyone else.”

Davos’s technical role was the head of Jon’s pit crew. His true position was Jon’s trainer and the one he trusted most. He was older than even Rhaegar and worked directly for him once upon a time. He started showing up at Jon’s cart racing meets when he was eighteen years old. To this day, Jon did not know if Davos came of his own accord or if his father sent him. Jon liked to think it was the former but, once or twice, he’d been afraid it was the latter. 

His gray beard was longer than Jon’s but they wore the same black polo with the red dragon on it, the Targaryen team logo. He hated it. 

“I know. Points. Follow the points,” Jon said aloud as much to remind himself as to prove he’d been listening to his friend. 

The track was empty. In a week, the green space would be filled with RVs and television crews and the grandstands would be full to bursting. It was the cars Jon cared about. Forty-eight of them, all competing to win the season’s opening race. Folks watching on television would never see or experience what he did. Those in the stands either. On the track, the earth moved and buzzed during the race itself. It made your heart pound and the sound took over all your senses. 

“Is that it?” The sun glinted off the white concrete barrier so Jon could just make out the small plaque.

Davos exhaled loudly. “Hell of a day. It was your father everyone worried over. A part of The League died after that accident.”

Jon had refused to watch it on the television. He stopped once he was old enough to understand what a father really was. Brandon Stark, one of the greatest League drivers of all time, bounced off Rhaegar’s car on the last leg of the last lap and hit a wall. Medical reports later confirmed he was killed instantly. His own father’s car spun and flipped but he’d walked away. Brandon Stark’s accident had not seemed so bad at first and it had been assumed he’d walk away from that one too, as he had countless times before. 

It was his younger brother, Ned Stark, who went on to win the King’s Landing 500 that day but his victory was a bitter one, coming only because of Brandon Stark’s death. He had not raced since. Jon’s own father announced his retirement at the end of the season. 

The Stark’s only driver for the rest of the year was Benjen Stark. Then Robb Stark joined The League and Theon Greyjoy the year after. Jon had seen both of them drive more than once. They, along with his half-brother, were considered The League’s future. He intended to change that narrative.

“Davos.”

“Yes, lad?”

Jon wanted more than a slow build of points. “I want to win.”

*****

From trailer trash to tuxedo. Jon fingered his black shirt collar, unused to such formal attire. He sat at one of the many empty tables, preferring to watch the activity around him rather than mingle amongst the crowds.

The season's first race wasn’t until the next afternoon but this event was the unofficial start. Every team, from owners to pit crew and staff, was packed into the Speedway’s banquet room. An open bar lined one wall and Jon took careful note of which drivers seemed to enjoy paying it a visit. Wives, girlfriends, and hanger-ons clung to arms and made small talk with each other. There were sponsors too, Manderly Shipping, Redwyne Bottling, and others. Jon was half tempted to let the Redwyne representative know his beer tasted like watered down piss. 

Jaime Lannister, dressed in a black coat and an ugly crimson tie and cumberbund, sat talking with his sister. His looks reminded Jon of an aging movie star who took up action roles out of desperation to prove his youth. He still tended to finish in the ton ten or fifteen but rarely won nowadays. 

Robert Baratheon's loud voice and deep, bellowing laugh could be heard clear across the room. He had retired the same year as Jon’s father though rumors persisted he would put uniform and helmet back on. His two younger brothers raced for Team Baratheon now. 

Jon wanted to leave. He stood, trying desperately to think up some excuse when he saw her again. She was standing by a door that exited to the side courtyard and sipping a water bottle. It was the third time Jon had seen her. She was stunning, with thick ropes of long red hair. The distance between them was far enough that Jon could not make out her eye color but he had a suspicion they matched her dress, a blue evening gown that drew out a whimper the first time he saw her. 

“You don’t want to be here either, do you?” he whispered. 

He stood, deliberating. Jon had told himself no relationships or distractions. He also wasn’t into chasing women. That was Aegon, not him. She took another sip and scanned the room. Their gazes locked for the briefest moment before she moved on.

He almost sat back down. Almost. “Aegon, who is that?” he called back to his half-brother.

Aegon was talking up some brunette in a black dress. He loudly groaned before coming over. “Who is who?”

Jon looked back at the door. She was gone. “Nevermind. I’ll see you later.” 

He was The League’s newest driver and if there was a night to take risks, he figured this was it. Jon walked through the crowded room, making a beeline towards where he last saw her and went through the door. 

Jon guessed correctly. She stood at the tiny courtyard’s edge and she was alone. He came up behind her, walking heavy so she would be aware of his presence. Up close, she was even more beautiful but he needed better light to see her eye color. 

“Hi. I’m Jon Snow.” He offered his hand. She smiled politely and accepted but said nothing. Her fingers were cold. “I don’t particularly want to be here either.”

Her smile faded. “If you’re hoping to get me back to your room, don’t bother.”

Jon could admit the idea had very briefly crossed his mind. “Actually, there’s a diner just up the street that serves up some great sandwiches. It’s better than the pretentious shit being offered up here.”

“I happen to like some of the pretentious shit being offered up here. How do I know you aren’t a crazy stalker or worse?” Her smile was back, hinting at her curiosity. She was tempted, no matter what story she gave. . 

“I guess you’ll have to take me at my word.”

“I just met you.”

“Bad odds, huh?”

Her smile was now verging on flirtatious. “It’s nice to meet you, Jon Snow. I’m Sansa.”

“Sansa.” He should have known she would have a beautiful name. “Is that a yes?”

“Does this mysterious diner have grilled cheese?”

“We’ll find out.”

She deliberated and Jon almost thought she was going to refuse but then her eyes moved over his body and he knew. “It’s a yes.”

“Let’s get out of here. My car is close by.” Jon was now grateful he’d decided to rent a car three days ago. He’d started to feel claustrophobic around his family a few days ago and needed to make an escape. He would need to get better at that. They weren’t going anywhere and neither was he.

They passed under a light in the parking lot and her head tilted slightly. She had blue eyes like he hoped. 

“Sweet potato fries?” he asked after she finished selecting the side to go with her grilled cheese. “What’s wrong with the regular kind?”

“I like sweet potato fries. Are you not a fan?”

“Not really. They’re too fancy for my taste.”

She laughed quietly and licked her lips. “A man of simple tastes.”

Jon was sitting across from her. He wasn’t sure he agreed with that statement at all. “Maybe.”

Sansa looked out at the small diner. It was the sort of place his mother took him too as a kid. Chipped laminate countertops and seats made with green pleather. Some were torn and all were faded and at least thirty years old. 

“Not your kind of place?”

She drew her eyes toward him and her expression turned serious. “I think it’s exactly my sort of place.”

Well, shit. If he wasn’t careful, Jon would be asking her back to his room after all. Or the back of his car. “So, what do you do when you aren’t being forced to attend fancy parties?”

“Are you asking what I do for a living? Marketing, sales, public relations. That sort of thing. It’s not all that interesting.” She shrugged one shoulder as if to underline her point. “I’m around it so much, I don’t enjoy talking about it when I don’t need to.”

“Got it. Tell me something else about yourself then.”

“Something else? Let’s see. I have an older brother and we’re pretty close.” Sansa arched a brow, giving him the impression there was another meaning but she went on and the sensation left him. “I wanted to get into fashion design once upon a time but that didn’t work out. I look for the pool first at every new hotel and one of my favorite things to do is crawl into bed early with a good book. What about you?”

She didn’t know who he was. Sansa knew his name but didn’t make the connection between it and Team Targaryen. That pleased him, maybe more than it should. “I was raised by a single mom. I’ve wanted to race cars for as long as I can remember and I secretly love Disney movies.”

She perked up at that. “Really?”

The food arrived and she handed over a sweet potato fry.

“Would you believe me if I said I was allergic?”

Sansa shook her head. “Nope. Try it. Just one.”

It was still in her hand. Why the hell not? Jon ate it out of her fingers and he heard the faint rush of her breath. 

“It’s good.”

He turned the conversation back to Disney movies and they ended up wandering from subject to subject. Jon was enjoying himself and it was rare for him to do so when he wasn’t at a track or behind a wheel. 

After the meal, Jon paid the bill and escorted her back to his car. He started the engine but left it in park as he tried to decide. He had almost no experience with this sort of thing. Truthfully, it was more Aegon’s style than his but he wanted her and Jon had more than a little hope that she was interested too. 

He gripped the steering wheel and released it.

“Is something wrong?”

Walking up to a stranger and introducing himself wasn’t exactly Jon’s style either. The worst she could say was no and he could accept that. Then he could rub one out in the shower back in his room later. “I’m thinking about asking you to my room. You can refuse and I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I’ll even give you the keys if you want so you’re the one driving. Hell, come back to my room and stay the night. Or, stay as long as you want too.”

Jon worked up the courage to finally glance at her, half- expecting to see rejection on her face. Instead, her whole body was turned towards him and she was leaning ever so slightly so their shoulders almost touched. He waited for an answer.

“We just met and you’re asking me back to your room.”

Jon couldn’t tell if that was a question or statement. “Yes.”

That earned Jon another perusal of his body and he knew he had her again. “Then I accept.”

A shiver of desire trickled through his body.

They drove in silence back towards his hotel. It was almost completely booked out by The League so he parked at a side entrance to avoid onlookers. The tension between them was heavy and grew heavier. 

He opened her car door and put a hand on the small of her back to guide Sansa into the hotel but made no other effort to touch her. In the elevator, he pressed the button for the seventh floor and waited for it to start moving.

“If you want to leave at any time, I’ll understand,” he said, feeling like it was important to reassure her.

“You keep thinking I’ll want to leave. Should I be worried?” she teased.

“I’m nervous.”

“Me too.”

Jon slid his key card into the slot and opened the door, letting her in first. Sansa took the hotel room in, taking note of his open suitcase on one of the beds and clothes everywhere. The small table was covered in papers and a laptop. “I’m not always the neatest person.”

“I don’t mind,” Sansa said in a way that told him she was a neat person.

“Do you want some water? I think there are drinks in the mini fridge but I haven’t bothered looking.” He sounded like a rambling idiot. 

“Water is fine.” 

Jon grabbed two of the glasses by the bathroom sink and filled them both He handed one over and took a sip from his own. He slipped his shoes off and then set the water on the unused hotel dresser. Jon wasn’t particularly thirsty anyway. He pulled the black shirt from his trousers and pulled off the tie that had choked him the entire night. Sansa watched his moves in silence and she had yet to take a drink. He wondered if it was lack of thirst or a secret distaste for lukewarm tap water.

“I’m normally a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy,” he explained.

“The black suits you.”

All black tuxedo, as an expression of the Team Targaryen colors. At least his black pullover uniform suited him. “The blue looks good on you.” He inwardly cringed. That was a bad line, even by his own incredibly low standards.

Her lips perked upwards with amusement. “My other favorite color is gray.”

“I’ll remember that.” 

Jon wanted to kiss her. He wanted to unzip her and find out the shade of hair between her legs and the color of her nipples. The plunging neckline of Sansa’s dress hinted at a lot and had been tempting him the entire night. Jon stroked the narrow strap across her right shoulder. It was made from velvet.

He let his hand drop to trace the gown’s edge lower between her breasts before moving back up again. Her breathing was quick and shallow. Sansa’s eyes were locked on him rather than his movements. Jon met her eyes, silently asking if he could continue. She did not look away so he slid his hand back up her strap. He pulled it down to bare her shoulder. There was no bra underneath, not that he’d been expecting one. 

Jon stepped into her space and put one hand on her waist. He could feel her body’s heat and wondered if she could feel his. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. He felt a strange urge to ask if he was doing everything right but her lips parted and her eyes fell shut. He took it as a sign to keep going. Jon slid his tongue into her mouth and tasted her. 

Their teeth accidentally clacked together. Sansa’s eyes shot open and they both grinned even as the kiss went on. 

Jon was hungry. He put a hand on the nape of her neck and dragged her closer. She was soft and inviting and he wanted to get their clothes off. 

Finally, they pulled away, breathless, and he gulped in air. “I have condoms in one of my bags.” Jon hardly managed to get the words out and he sounded substantially more desperate than he cared to admit.

He kissed her again and started fumbling along her back for the zipper he knew was hiding somewhere. 

Sansa broke their kiss but kept her lips against his own. “You should get them.” Her hands were pulling at his trouser zipper.

“Oh, fuck,” he growled. Jon found the dress zipper and yanked.

The night was turning out pretty damn great and he’d be making his debut at the King’s Landing 500 in a matter of hours. Jon thought he might have just found his good luck charm.

*****

Jon woke to the alarm’s buzzing and instantly reached out for his bedmate but he was alone. He bolted upright, turned off the alarm, and clicked on the bedside lamp. 

“Sansa?”

No answer.

She’d left sometime after he’d fallen asleep. Her dress and shoes were gone too. 

Jon pulled the covers back and climbed out of the bed. He’d not bothered getting dressed afterward. They had both fallen asleep naked with Sansa in his arms. She had agreed to stay the night and he had planned to order room service and surprise her with breakfast in bed. 

There was no note and no sign she had ever been there other than the two glasses of water that still sat where they had left them. Sansa had left him. 

Jon sat at the bed’s corner and let his head and shoulders droop. They had stayed up half the night and he was already tired. There wasn’t anything for him to do but take a shower and get ready for the day. Davos would be calling him shortly.

Sansa was a guest at last night’s party which meant she was connected to The League. She wasn’t a driver or he would have already known who she was. She’d said marketing and public relations which meant she was probably responsible for schmoozing sponsors and the TV networks. Jon had found her once. He could do so again. Telling himself that was enough, Jon got ready for the day. He had a race to win.

In the early afternoon, he donned his all-black racing suit with the red number fifteen embroidered on the back. The gloves and helmet could wait a few minutes longer.

“Drink more of this.” Davos handed over a bottle dripping with condensation.

Jon guzzled down the familiar mix of water and Gatorade. He’d be sweating all of it and more out very soon. 

“A salt tablet was added and there is more in your system. Drink before you get thirsty.”

Jon knew all this but let Davos keep talking. It was part of their pre-race routine and it would be bad luck to change it now. 

He was in the twenty-fourth starting position but that was good enough for him. Jon had not even tried for the pole position in quals. 

Robb Stark was in the pit space directly in front of him, starting twenty-third. His overalls were gray with his number in white on the back. The color made him think of Sansa again. He’d looked for her throughout the day but she was not anywhere to be found.

As if his thoughts drew her out, Sansa appeared. She wore a gray sundress with a thin white cardigan over it. Jon guessed it was to keep the sun off her skin rather than from any cold.

He smiled as she stepped around the different teams and past a gaggle of reporters. Sansa was moving straight towards him. Jon smiled.

His smile fell away as he watched her head directly towards Robb Stark. He embraced her and kissed her forehead. 

She had said her favorite color was gray too and Jon thought he knew why. “Davos, do you know who that is?” His heart skipped. 

“Who, lad?” He followed where Jon indicated. “Pretty girl, isn’t she? That’s Sansa Stark. Robb Stark’s younger sister.”

Jon went cold. “Does she by any chance work for The League?”

“Don’t think so. Publicity work for her father, I believe.”

He was starting to shiver in his black overalls, hot southern sun or no. 

As if aware of him for the first time, Sansa stepped away from her brother and stared. Their eyes met but neither took a step towards the other. 

What was the phrase? Sleeping with the enemy. She’d withheld her last name and job from him. And she’d kept him up most of the night so he wasn’t as rested as he should be.

“You need to put your helmet and gloves on, lad. The call to start engines will be coming in a couple minutes.”

Jon kept right on staring at Sansa. Anger started to churn up his insides. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little longer than expected. After posting the first chapter, I realized parts of this one needed to be re-worked. Then, parts of chapter three needed to be redone too.

Jon’s focus narrowed. The gap between the gold car and high bank grew wider and he wanted through it.

“Davos, how far until the next turn?” he yelled into the headset. His voice was winded. 

Jon was on the long run of the oval-shaped course and his track position limited visibility further up. He needed to get through that gap.

“It’s not worth it.”

Davos always was overly cautious. Jon didn’t bother responding. He aimed for the gap, telling himself there was enough room, and the space between him and the other car narrowed further.

“He’s baiting you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” There were cars behind and to his left. Jon was past done pacing them. “I’m closer. Closer.”

Jon’s front bumper drew up next to the gold car and he started nosing into the gap.

“Fuck! Fuck!” The gold car swerved, eliminating the gap and forcing Jon back. “Who the fuck was that?” It was a Baratheon car but Jon didn’t know which one.

“Fifty-seven. His brother is at the top.” 

Renly was taking care of his team members. He and Stannis were known not to be fond of each other but the Baratheons were famous for their team-based strategy. One was bottling up several cars so the other stood a better chance of winning. He fell for it and he should have known better. 

Jon settled back into his spot, with the 24th place being traded between him and Willas Tyrell. There was nothing he could do but wait for an opening. 

“What’s going on with you today, lad?”

He fucked a girl and it didn’t end the way he thought it would. Jon ignored Davos again. The comm system meant his entire pit crew could hear. It was possible Rhaegar was listening too. 

Yellow flashing lights caught his attention ten laps later but the sky was bright blue and cloudless. Up ahead, Jon could barely make out the pace car entering the track. “What’s going on?”

“Blown tire. Debris on the track.”

“Who?”

“Fifty-three.” Joffrey Lannister, the talentless hack. “Come in on your next lap.”

He had already made a pit stop during the first yellow flag. There also was less than sixty laps to go. “I’m staying.” 

Other cars left the track, one after the other. Stark gray, Lannister crimson, and more. They were risking their position. Jon preferred to risk his car. 

Willas Tyrell maintained his lower speed and drew away, clearly planning to exit the track. Jon just moved up in position. 

“Get in here!” Davos was yelling now. “That sun and the black concrete are hell on your tires.”

Jon snarled with frustration. “Coming in,” he said out loud and then finished, “but I don’t want to,” silently to himself. 

He drove into the pit road and stopped by his crew. They flew into motion; their movements were as much a machine as his black car.

He caught a glimpse of red hair before it disappeared behind the car’s hood. 

Davos appeared in his window, his gray hair finger-combed into a mess. That was Jon’s fault. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t know what you mean,” he lied. 

The hood fell down and Grenn slapped it. Jon eased on the gas and left pit road behind. He moved back into the lineup.

The green flag came up and Jon forced himself to forget about Sansa Stark. The muscles in his thighs formed into that combination only stock car drivers knew, tense and ready but still loose so he could keep control over the pedals. 

Jon finished nineteenth, behind the entire Stark team and his brother. Stannis Baratheon won the first race of the season. Better him than one of the Starks, he thought bitterly. Was this her plan? As much as he didn’t want to believe it, Jon hardly knew her. 

He slowly climbed out of his car and leaned against it. The tension and stress of the past several hours slowly drained away so he could take stock of his body. Jon’s hair was matted down with sweat. The flame-retardant suit meant his body was swimming inside a rank sweat lodge. His legs were jelly. 

“It was a good first race,” said Davos, appearing beside him. 

“It was shit. Be honest.”

Davos merely dropped his head and arched his brow into that long-familiar exasperated expression. “I’ll have the race tapes in a couple of days. We’ll spend the week going over them.” 

Pit road was busy. Robert Baratheon was busy giving an interview while his brother Stannis stood next to him, angrily grinding his teeth. Jaime Lannister was obviously arguing with his sister. Ned Stark appeared to be giving his team some sort of pep talk. Jon watched curiously, half expecting them to form a giant group hug.

They actually did. Huh. 

“Dad wants to talk with you.” Rhae appeared before him in black jeans and polo shirt with the Targaryen dragon logo on it. She had her mother’s dark looks, like him. She also happened to be the only member of his Targaryen family that Jon cared for.

“What does Rhaegar want?”

“He’s your father too.” She sighed, probably knowing her reminder was futile. “He’s in our bus.”

Jon made his way to the tour bus and found Rhaegar sitting at his desk with twin monitors already replaying the race. The bus also contained a small eating area, a bathroom, and several sleeping bunks. 

He stood in front of his father, feeling like a little kid being sent to the principal’s office for detention. He kinda was. 

“What was that?”

Jon pretended to scan the bus. “What was what?”

The red flush crept down Rhaegar’s neck towards his chest. “You went right after 57 even when your pit chief warned you what was going on. You missed three pass opportunities that I saw and let Jaime Lannister slipped ahead of you. The only reason why you finished as well as you did is because of your pit crew. Their speed moved you up seven spots.”

Jon said nothing. He’d made some gambles and he had lost them all. “I wanted to take some chances.” Almost nothing. 

He leaned forward in the chair and his voice lowered. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be racing carts at the Clegane Fields. The Targaryens are one of the founding families in The League and as of now, you don’t deserve to be a part of it. Harrenhal is next week. Show me I’m not wasting my time with you.” He resumed the video, clearly dismissing him.

“Anything else?” Jon asked, not quite able to stop himself.

“Tell your mother I said hello.” He didn’t look away from the screen but he didn’t need to. 

Jon left. He wanted to go back to his room, eat a giant dinner, and be alone. He needed to forget she existed.

Almost as if he had called for her, Sansa Stark appeared before him. She still wore the gray dress but the white cardigan was gone. Up close, he could make out the white floral pattern in it. She did look beautiful, even if he hated the colors.

He stopped and frowned. 

A hesitating smile almost appeared. “I’m sorry I snuck out the way I did. I’ve never done that before.”

“Never had a one-night stand with a stranger or never tried to sabotage a race?” 

Her eyes bulged with shock and hurt. “Neither. Both.”

That’s what he thought. “So you didn’t lie about who you are, get me talking, and then keep me up most of the night? Was I the first or do you make a habit of sabotaging every rookie’s first race?” 

“I guess that is what you would think. Very well. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Snow.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly but he didn’t miss the rapid blinks of her eyes. She turned and walked away. 

Jon closed his eyes briefly and opened them. She was gone. There wasn’t even the sound of footsteps for him to follow. He called her name and started following the path he thought she went down, turning one corner and then another.

“Sansa?” he called out. “I’m sorry.”

Nothing from her, but as he moved closer to pit road the growing murmur of people would have drowned her out anyways. 

He called her name one last time before giving up. Jon needed to get back to his pit crew and check out his car. 

It was a shitty start to the season.

******

_Harrenhal National Speedway_

Sansa’s dress was made from unbleached organic cotton. It showed more skin than she would normally prefer but it also made her red hair stand out. She looked damn good and that knowledge somehow felt like armor. 

She stood back, listening to her father’s pre-race talk and clutching a clipboard over her chest. He was the only other one not dressed in gray coveralls. Her presence was not technically required on pit road before starts but she always enjoyed it. Theon’s buzzing excitement and her brother’s more stoic hopefulness were contagious. Arya’s struggle to take direction from Rodrik Cassel as a member of Robb’s pit crew was amusing. 

“Gendry and I are going out bar hopping tonight. You want to join in?” 

Gendry was a crew member under Jory Cassel, both assigned to Theon’s car, lucky number seven. 

Sansa already had plans of a sort. “I’m busy,” she demurred. “Besides, I’d only be a third wheel.” 

Arya insisted they were merely friends. She had also described them as comrades, best buds, pals, and Sansa’s personal favorite, chums. It could very well be the case but she had seen Gendry sneaking out of her sister’s room early one morning last season. The friendship part might be true but there were definitely other benefits to go with. 

Arya smirked with amusement, clearly not believing her. “Is it the roguish duke or the rakish earl?”

Caught. “The ruthless pirate,” she giggled. A nice, safe sandy blond with no dark hair or gray eyes to be found. 

Jon’s black stock car with a red twenty-four painted across the front sat on the other side of pit road. He was speaking with an older man she had since learned was Davos Seaworth. He had been the one to discover Jon and get him signed with Team Targaryen. 

Their eyes briefly met before she frowned and pointedly looked away. Sansa had caught him staring a few times before too. They had not spoken since he’d accused her of whoring herself as some form of stock car racing espionage on behalf of her family. There wasn’t much else to say after that. There wasn’t anything she wanted to hear either. 

The horn sounded and the three drivers for Team Stark started their engines. The same rumbling sound echoed up and down pit road, making her stomach shake. It would feel like a mini-earthquake soon but she would not be there for it.

The green lights flashed and the race was on. Three hundred laps on a D-shaped oval with one of the steepest banks to be found in The League. 

She made her way to the owner’s lounge, grabbed one of the many bottles of water kept for their use, and sat at the table reserved for Team Stark. A reporter would try and sneak in for an interview later but, for now, it was mostly empty. Her father stood to the side talking with Robert Baratheon. The two were good friends despite their competitive roles. 

Sansa settled in to watch the race from one of the many cameras situated around the track. Another television carried the race broadcast. She ignored it. 

“Look at him.”

“Your boys are going to have competition for this year’s hottest driver award.” Robert Baratheon’s jowls shook from his laughter. “We’re old. No one cares about you and me anymore.”

“Robb and Theon don’t either,” her father said. 

Sansa shook her head to better pull herself out of her daydreams and focus on the conversation. They were talking about Jon.

Robb and Jon were battling it out. One pulled forward and then the other. “What spot?” she asked.

“Tenth. Lap 260,” her father answered.

A top ten finish doubled the entry points for a driver and went toward the owner’s pot too. The two men didn’t say another word as the laps slowly counted down. Five laps before the end, Jon won out as the distance between him and the gray number eight grew ever larger.

The checkered flag dropped and the season’s second race was over. Jon placed tenth, beating her brother by less than a tenth of a second. Theon Greyjoy finished twelfth.

“Team Targaryen,” Ned Stark said. His voice was cold and his earlier easy demeanor was gone. Her father was angry and she couldn’t exactly blame him. Sansa felt the same even if it wasn’t for exactly the same reasons.

Sansa wisely kept silent. Telling her father she’d had a one-night stand with the object of his ire wouldn’t help. She couldn’t even pretend she had not known who Jon was the entire time. It was his lack of knowledge about her that spiked Sansa’s interest. “I’ve got Theon’s interview to see too.”

She left the owner’s room and went back to pit road. Theon and Robb were deep in conversation with Rodrik but cut it off sharply at her appearance.

“Theon, your interview.” She inspected him. He was still sweaty from the race. That was good. Sweat was always good. “Pull down your coveralls and leave it hanging on your waist.” 

The League had arranged for a cover series in a popular sports magazine, featuring younger drivers. Theon’s dark looks and easy, flirtatious nature was perfect for a spread and she’d worked hard to get Team Stark in the lead issue. 

Theon flexed his arms dramatically, laughing. “Should I go ahead and strip down naked first?”

Sansa rolled her eyes but from amusement rather than annoyance. “Only if they ask.”

She made her way through the heavy crowd, dodging between men with cameras and men in coveralls, before bumping into one clad in black. 

“Sansa, can I-?”

Oh, hell. “Excuse me. Very busy.” Sansa made a beeline towards her father, knowing Jon wouldn’t follow. She could feel his eyes on her though. 

Back at the hotel later in the evening, she changed into a swimsuit and went straight to the swimming pool. It was empty which was perfect. Sansa started on her own laps but they were lazy and the only competition was the random series of thoughts flitting through her head. It was her first chance to relax that day. 

Too soon, her stomach grumbled so she made for the steps and emerged.

Jon Snow sat on the lounge chair next to her stuff. He was dressed all in black, from his t-shirt to his boots. His spread legs, posture, and heated gaze as she emerged from the water told Sansa he had been there for a while.

He stood and silently offered her the hotel bathrobe she had swiped from her room. “I wanted to ask you back to my room.” 

Was he joking? Perhaps something showed in her expression because he pulled a spare key card back. 

“Why would I want to do that? There’s no race tomorrow and you beat my brother. Clearly, my evil plan is failing.”

His face fell “I got ahead of myself. Let me try again.” Jon wiped his face, drawing attention to the tired strain around his eyes. His hair was a tangled mat from the race too which meant he hadn’t taken the time to shower before going looking for her. “I’m sorry. I ‘m asking you back so we could talk privately somewhere. I’d like to explain myself and apologize, that’s all.”

“And if I’m not interested in your excuses?”

“Then I’ll respect your decision and leave you alone.”

“What if I have plans?” If a salad from room service, a hot bath, and her book counted as plans. She did need to know if her pirate would figure out the runaway cabin girl was really a princess. 

“Then come after. If you’re done with me after we talk, then I’ll accept that too. Please.” He held out the white plastic card one more time but kept a distance between them, giving her the chance to decide.

This would be a good opportunity to throw a drink on him if she had a drink to throw. Sansa would need a little more righteous indignation too and she’d never been great with that either. A refusal couldn’t even tempt her because the truth was, Sansa was curious. She also wanted to hear that apology. 

Sansa cautiously took the key card, telling herself she wasn’t being a big, stupid idiot.

“I’ll listen to what you have to say. This isn't an agreement to anything else.”

*****

Jon jumped up from his chair so quickly at the sound of knocking on his hotel door that the chair fell over. 

Sansa was dressed in pink house pants and a matching t-shirt with a little unicorn on it. The casualness of the outfit told him she was deliberately trying not to be sexy. Message received and rejected.

“I ordered pizza. Pepperoni, Veggie, Hawaiian, and extra meat.” Jon noted her quizzical expression over the four boxes of pizza. “I didn’t know what kind you liked. There’s also beer, white wine, tea, soda, and coffee. It’s Redwyne Beer because of the sponsorship thing. I can’t recommend it. Tastes like piss.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Water is fine. I drink it almost exclusively.”

He poured two glasses of water from the hotel sink, an act that reminded him vividly of her last visit to his room. Good memories and it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to dwell on them. Not right then anyway. Best to wait until later. 

Jon snapped his laptop shut before she had a chance to notice the frozen image. He had been watching her brother’s driving. They sat opposite one another at the hotel room’s small table. The flirting that had existed between them the previous week was gone. 

No point in delaying. “I’m sorry about what I said to you. I was angry and made you the target without a valid reason or giving you a chance to explain.”

“What were you angry about?”

“I made some stupid decisions.” Sansa pursed her lips, telling him she didn’t disagree. “I thought decisions made during the race were calculated games but it turns out they were just stupid. I’d been bluntly reminded of just how bad they were right before we spoke. All of it came together and set me off so I took it out on you when it wasn’t deserved.” To be accurate, his father had issued a not so subtle threat to get better or go home to his mother. He’d felt humiliated after all of it. Viserys’ smirk as he’d gone to see Rhaegar, Davos’ feeble reassurances, and Rhae’s insistence it would all get better soon. Jon spent the past week confronting the knowledge that he wasn’t nearly as good as he thought he was. 

“You were better today,” she pressed although he noticed she didn’t accept his apology either. 

He was damn good in that day’s race. Harrenhall was the perfect track with its long straight oval. “Davos Seaworth spent the week helping me.” They had done nothing but study her brother and Theon Greyjoy in the previous season’s races. 

“It looks like not having me around helped.”

Was that a test? “I missed you this past week,” he said. “Our dinner was the first time I felt like myself since before this season started.”

She didn’t respond. Sansa took a sip of water and studied him with narrowed eyes over the glass rim. 

“I was the one who did the asking last week, not you, and I should have realized it sooner. I am sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Jon.” Sansa’s voice was a little formal but her features softened when she spoke his name. 

Relief came to him and that post-race feel was back. “I’m not someone who lashes out like I did.”

“I believe you.”

Post-race rush was filling him now. “Will you give me another chance?”

“A do-over?”

“A fresh start. A chance to see I’m not a complete ass.”

“Only a partial ass?” She chuckled at her joke and he couldn’t help joining her. “Yes, I think we can do that.”

Thank the gods. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only one?”

“Why didn’t you tell me your last name?”

Her cheeks reddened. “I’ve never had a one night stand before.”

“I guessed.” She’d probably woken up in a panic. 

“I knew who you were from the beginning.”

“I guessed that too. Is that why you were interested in me? Because of who I was.” The idea hurt. Aegon used his family name as a lure all the time. Jon never had, but the name Snow wasn’t much of a lure either. The Snows were nobodies who struggled with having enough money and lived in trailer parks. 

“Yes, but not in the way you think,” she said in a way that told him she sensed the idea bothered him. “The last person who asked me on a date was Joffrey Lannister. A jerk who made it clear he was only there because of his mother. Before that, Willas Tyrell. He was friendlier but it doesn’t change the fact that Tyrells were trying to buy their way into prestige. The worst was my father’s friend, Robert Baratheon. He sat me next to his brother Renly at a big dinner once. The guy is gay and involved with Loras Tyrell. Everyone knows that.”

Jon didn’t know that. “Because of your last name.” He was starting to get it now.

“We helped found The League. People think they can gain access and favors through me, if not outright gaining our team. You didn’t know who I was. It felt good.” 

“You were interested in me because I was interested in you?” Jon wasn’t sure how he felt about that

“No. It was enough to make me decide to talk to you. You were clearly wanting to talk to me. Just me. Once I was convinced you weren’t a crazy stalker, I enjoyed myself.”

He felt better. Jon’s particular situation was different than hers but a last name playing such an outsized role in your life; he understood that very well. “I enjoyed myself too so...good.” He smiled, hoping to convey he was referring to their conversation and dinner, not merely the part that came after it all. 

Sansa deliberately set her slice of pizza down and carefully dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Now that you know, you can claim I used you if you want but I wasn’t spying.”

“I don’t think either of those things. Spying or using.”

“I won’t spy for you in the future either.”

He suspected that was a comment borne from past experience. Jon understood that too. “I would never ask.”

“Good because I’m still hungry.” She picked a slice of the veggie this time around and went back to eating.

“I promise not to ever ask that of you.”

She blinked. “I promise the same.”

She was staying. Jon wasn’t sure if it was the free meal or his charming personality but it didn’t matter, the result was the same. He wanted to keep her there with him because truth was, Jon genuinely enjoyed her company. 

“Can you tell me about the book you gave up to be here with me?”

That surprised her. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t until just now.” She almost claimed plans. Jon was certain if she really had plans, Sansa would not cancel them for him. “What’s it about?”

She blushed. “Pirates,” she said curtly. Sansa didn’t want to tell him which meant he really wanted to know.

“What kind of pirates?” This was fun.

“The pirate kind of pirates.”

He laughed at her evasiveness. “Sounds riveting. Can I borrow it?”

“It’s due back at the library tomorrow.”

“That means you’re free that night then.”

The tension between them grew thick as she realized the question behind his statement. Jon liked her and wanted to keep them going. 

“I’m not sure it’s wise for us to keep meeting like this.” Her pink blush was closer to scarlet now but she didn’t say no. 

“Remember my no-spy promise? I want to be with Sansa only. Your last name doesn’t matter to me,” he promised again. He would do his damnedest to keep both vows too. If Jon couldn’t compete with his own skill then he really should go home to his mother. Plus, even if Sansa was offering, he didn’t want to know anything about the Stark’s team strategy. 

“I’m free tomorrow night.”

“Good.” Jon rested his chin on one hand and leaned closer. “Now, back to the pirates….”

“What pirates?”

He laughed. 

They went back to eating and neither racing nor family names came up again. 

It was late when Sansa finally pushed her plate away and Jon waited for it.

“I should go.”

There it was.

“You should stay.” She was sitting cross-legged with her knees bent, relaxed. He didn’t need to deliberate. Jon took the single step towards her before getting on his knees before her. Jon rested a hand on her soft flannel pants. He wanted to go further but not without a clear signal she wanted him too. “I never noticed how sexy unicorns are.” Up close, he could see the specks of glitter on her shirt.

“No, they aren’t.”

“On you they are.”

Sansa cupped his cheek and scraped lightly at his beard. He loved it. “This is a really bad idea.”

“The worst. Completely awful.”

Her lips flattened, threatening to turn into a frown before breaking into an amused smile. “Are you always this ridiculous?”

“Yes. Always.”

Jon leaned in to slip his tongue in her mouth. Her legs spread further apart. He could smell the faint trace of chlorine on her. 

“Stay all night. No sneaking out this time,” he said when they finally broke apart. “Will you?”

Her breathing was shallow but her voice was sure. “Do you have any more condoms?”

“Enough for tonight.” He would need to visit the pharmacy in the morning. “No sneaking out. Please.”

“No sneaking out,” she repeated.

Jon pounced. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dragged the conflict out between the two of them as long as I could but oh, well. I suck at writing conflict between these two and frankly, I don't care enough to get better at it. Because I don't like conflict between them which probably means I'll never write a super slow-burn 40 chapter enemies to lovers fic. I guess.
> 
> Really, these first two chapters are kinda a prologue anyway. And like the saying goes, on with the show...


End file.
